


Pine your way to China

by Aderam



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Beijing 2022 Winter Olympics, M/M, Pining, lovable idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 04:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19434328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aderam/pseuds/Aderam
Summary: In which our hero is surprisingly good at talking about it, but not to the right person.AKA hockey boys are dumb, but we like them anyway.





	Pine your way to China

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Stromesquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stromesquad/pseuds/Stromesquad) in the [PuckingRare2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Nate and Mitch are on the 2022 Olympics team together. It's the first time they've been teammates since they hooked up at 2017 Worlds.
> 
> Somehow this prompt turned into nearly three thousand words of Nate having a crisis. I stand by that. Also - how is it that all these hockey players are still babies??? In February 2022 -- Mitch will be 24, Nate 26, Sid 34, Gabe 29, Tyson 30.
> 
> Rated Teen for probably fewer swears than are accurate, and some implied sexy business.

Mitchy sees his name on the roster when they announce the members of the Olympic Teams, but there’s so much else going on that he doesn’t really think through what it means. He’s too busy exchanging fire emojis with Dylan, and texting I-told-you-sos to Erin -- there was no way she’d be left off the roster again -- and freaking out because he’s going to the Fucking Olympics in Fucking China, and his phone is being lit up with texts and calls from everyone he knows.

So he doesn’t really think about Nathan MacKinnon. About being on the same team as him again. About what happened at Worlds in 2017. 

Probably Nate doesn’t remember anyway.

**_X_**

Nate is distracted. Fortunately, he’s not the only one.

The team is supposed to be checking their gear over with the equipment guys to make sure that everything they need got to China in one piece, but everyone just got here. The dressing room is a mess of hockey players and support staff yelling and catching up with old friends. They’re in China, and Nate is still feeling fuzzy from the long flight and the jetlag. Honestly, this is probably why hockey players have their names on all their gear.

So Nate is pawing through his gear, and sort of half-heartedly chatting with Sean Monahan who is leaning against the wall in the next stall and falling asleep in the middle of their conversation. He is definitely not watching Mitch bounce around the dressing room as if he hadn’t just gotten off a 13 hour flight, smiling widely and talking with all their teammates.

It’s not that Nate hasn’t seen Mitch in the last five years - they play each other twice each season, and they’ve both been at a few All-Star Games, and various media events. But neither of them have been to Worlds since 2017 - a combination of injuries and deep playoff runs - so they haven’t been teammates, haven’t shared a locker room, haven’t spent much time in each other’s company. 

Nate may have avoided Mitch at some of these events, but none of his busibody Avalanche teammates were there to call him on it - so it’s almost like he didn’t avoid anyone at all. Ever.

Next to him Sean starts snoring, so Nate stops pretending to pay attention to him and lets his gaze drift over to Mitch on the other side of the dressing room. Connor McDavid has wrapped an arm around Mitch’s waist to stop him from bouncing into Drew Doughty’s personal bubble and causing the first injury of the tournament. Connor is angling them away from Drew’s stall towards a conversation with John Tavares and Mat Barzal. Mitch is still visibly vibrating with energy, but he tucks himself firmly against Connor’s side, blushing as red as his Team Canada track suit when Mat starts laughing at something Mitch says.

Oh, Nate thinks.

He’s used to seeing Mitch in Leafs blue: blue jerseys, blue t-shirts, blue suits, blue ball caps paired with outrageously coloured sneakers. Nate hasn’t seen him in bright Canada red since they were on the same team at World’s.

Nate has strong memories, good memories, of Mitch in Team Canada red -- and Mitch out of Team Canada red -- team swag everywhere in Mitch’s hotel room, and the two of them tangled on the bed.

Suddenly Nate remembers why he was definitely, totally, very much not avoiding Mitch for the past five years.

**_X_**

Nate is face down on his bed in the room he’s sharing with Sid in the Olympic Village.

“What is wrong with me?” Nate asks, the sound muffled through the blanket.

Sid mostly ignores him through the ease of long practice, and continues unpacking his suitcase. “Was that a rhetorical question,” he asks without looking up from his Under Armour, “or do you want to go through some of your tape?”

“Do you remember what I told you about the last time I was at World’s?” Nate asks.

“Yeah,” Sid replies, still focused on putting his clothes in the drawers instead of leaving them in his suitcase like a normal person. “Losing in a shootout sucks.”

“Fuck, Sid,” Nate groans and rolls onto his back so he can glare at his friend. “This is not about hockey.”

At his tone Sid actually stops putting away his clothes and sits on the bed across from Nate, his expression all ernest-Captain in a way that Landy can only dream of matching.

“This is about Mitch,” Sid says, because he’s a good friend and has actually been listening to Nate when he rants on the dock by their summer houses. “I thought you said that was just a casual thing?”

“It was,” Nate insists. “It might,” he says a little quieter, and he can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He lifts his hands to cover his face, he can’t say this while meeting Sid’s knowing gaze. “I might want it not to be though?”

And honestly this is the worst possible time for these sorts of life-changing realizations. He’s at the fucking Olympics! He should be working hard, enjoying the other events, and trying to hook up with a luger. Nate’s a little pissed at his subconscious for keeping this from him for so many years before presenting these feelings, fully-formed at the least helpful moment.

Sid reaches over and pats him on the knee reassuringly. “Have you talked to him?” he asks, clearly forgetting that Nate is terrible at being an adult.

“Sure,” Nate says sarcastically, “I’ll just go up to him before our game against the Russians and ask if he wants to go steady.”

“Maybe wait until after the game,” Sid suggests, and goes back to unpacking his bag.

**_X_**

“Is this what having a mid-life crisis is like?” Nate asks Tyson on the phone. Tyson’s voice tinny from the other side of the world and sleepy because Nate had forgotten about the time change.

Tyson laughs at him for well over a minute, soft and reassuring in a way that only makes sense because it’s Tys. 

“Nate, you’re 26,” he says after he gets control over himself. Tyson loves nothing more than complaining about being old, now that he’s entered his dirty thirties.

**_X_**

Nate sees Gabe in the cafeteria of the athletes village. Gabe detours away from his blonde Swedish hockey-god teammates and gives Nate a hug even though they’d declared themselves to be mortal enemies for the next two weeks. Sometimes Gabe is the best.

“I’m so fucked,” Nate says into Gabe’s shoulder instead of hello.

Gabe tenses a little, but doesn’t move away. “This is the point where I should let you sabotage Canada’s chances. But I saw your goal last night, so I know that’s not the issue.”

Nate has always been really good at funneling his emotions into his performance on the ice. It’s almost like dealing with them.

“Okay,” Gabe says, running a hand soothingly up and down Nate’s back. “Tell Uncle Gabe all your problems.”

“That is so creepy,” Nate mutters but lets Gabe steer him to a table a bit further away from the other hockey players.

“You love it,” Gabe retorts. “What’s going on?”

“It’s possible,” Nate prevaricates, pushing some loose salt around on the table and avoiding Gabe’s eyes, “that I might have a thing for one of my teammates.”

Gabe’s whole face lights up and he smiles that Prince Charming smile. “Who is it?” he asks with glee that is half mischief and half sincere, and continues before Nate can stop him. “It can’t be Sid - we would’ve already dealt with this,” he snaps his fingers. “You and Parayko would make adorable babies! - But he’s a divisional rival. That’s rough.”

“What?!” Nate makes a face at his Captain. “Those are the two you picked? Really?”

“Well you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Gabe says all faux-huffy. “Do you know if he likes you back at least? - Whoever he is.”

“I don’t know,” Nate says, but then reconsiders and shrugs. “Well, we did hook up before, so he doesn’t _dis_ -like me.”

Nate can almost see the gears turning in Gabe’s enormous head at that comment.

“Wait - is it Marner?” Gabe asks, still grinning like the supportive idiot he is. “Didn’t you have a thing back at Worlds, when Tyson wrecked his knee.”

Nate splutters, “How did you know about that??” he exclaims. Nate has definitely hooked up with guys since Mitch, and there is no reason why Gabe should be able to figure it out this quickly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Gabe says dismissively, which means Tyson probably told him about it. “Have you seriously been pining for five years?”

“No!” Nate says emphatically, but then stops to reconsider. “Well - does it count as pining if you didn’t realize it at the time?”

“Nate Dawg,” Gabe says with the same fond voice he uses on his dog Zoe. “You need to talk to your boy.”

**_X_**

Sid isn’t in their room when Nate gets back after media availability. Normally it wouldn’t be weird at all - even the other superstars on Team Canada are always a little shocked by how much media Sid does - but Sid has been chirping Connor all tournament about having to take over Sid’s interviews now that Connor has the C.

Nate grabs another water bottle out of the mini fridge and debates whether to wait for Sid or head out now to find the other guys. Winning their game this afternoon against the Swiss - take that Roman Josi! - means that the Canadian players have a full three days off before the quarter finals, and a bunch of the guys were already talking about going out tonight.

Before he can decide there’s a knock at the door.

Nate hopes the guys have already figured out what parties they’re hitting up tonight, he’s not really in the mood for spending an hour or two dicking around while no one makes any decisions.

Nate opens the door and almost immediately has his arms full of six feet of Canadian hockey player.

“Ooof,” Mitch says into Nate’s chest, and from the hall Morgan Reilly lets out a strangled yell and pulls the door shut behind them.

“What…?” Nate starts and he can already feel his cheeks going red.

Mitch pushes himself out of Nate’s arms and turns back to the door. “Fuck, guys!” he yells, blushing furiously. “What the fuck!”

“It’s for your own good!” calls a muffled voice from outside the door.

“Is that Nylander?” Nate asks getting steadily more confused.

“Yeah,” Mitch says banging on the door, “we were going to have a Leafs dinner, but John said he wanted to ask Sid something on the way out.”

“For the record,” Tavares says through the door, sounding way too calm for this ridiculous situation, “I didn’t sign on for throwing you into his room.”

“Well it was effective,” Mo retorts. “Totally romantic - falling into his arms and shit.”

Nate and Mitch both freeze at Morgan’s words, their faces turning even more red.

“Romantic?” Nate asks softly, hoping the idiots won’t be able to hear from the other side of the door.

Mitch winces, “Well…” he says, “I might still kinda like you,” and his face scrunches up in a grimace. “And I know it’s been like five years or whatever-”

“Mitch,” Nate says, a smile starting to spread across his face.

“-and it’s not like I’ve been pining or something totally lame like that,” Mitch continues, not letting Nate get a word in, “but it was really good to see you again. And if you don’t want it to be a thing it totally doesn’t have to be a thing. But it could be a thing and that would be-”

Nate pulls Mitch in by the waist and kisses him. When he pulls back Mitch is blinking slowly in shock, his hands resting on Nate’s shoulders.

“Good?” Nate suggests.

“What?” Mitch replies.

“If we were a thing it could be good, right?” Nate prompts, rubbing his thumb over Mitch’s t-shirt covered side.

“If you wanted,” Mitch says softly, relaxing into Nate’s touch.

“Well,” Nate says, kissing Mitch again, “I kinda still like you too.”

“Oh,” Mitch says and moves a hand down to Nate’s side. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Nate agrees.

“Have they talked yet?” Nate hears from the hallway - and that’s Sid, who clearly knew that this crazy plan was happening, the bastard. “I forgot my shit in there and I was planning on having a shower before supper.”

“Not sure,” Mo replies, and it sounds like he’s pressed right up against the door. “We locked them inside and they got quiet.”

“Well, after the initial swearing,” Willie adds.

There’s a brief silence, where Nate can almost hear Sid’s disappointed Captain look. “How exactly,” Sid asks slowly, “did you lock a door that locks from the inside?”

Mitch and Nate exchange a quick embarrassed grimace, and Nate raises a questioning eyebrow. Mitch nods and they separate slightly, Nate grabbing Mitch’s hand with his right before reaching for the doorknob with his left.

The door opens without any trouble at all, Mo nearly tripping into the room on top of them.

“I hate you all,” Nate says firmly, glaring at everyone in the hallway - including Colton Parayko, who is just walking up and clearly has no idea what’s going on.

Willie catches sight of their joined hands and starts beaming. He looks like five-drink Gabe when he can’t stop talking about how much he loves them. Fucking Swedes.

“It fucking worked!” Willie says, nearly bouncing in place. “Gabe is going to be so sad he couldn’t be here!”

“You’re all dead to me,” Nate continues, because he’s been teammates with Tyson Barrie for way too long and he’s forgotten how to show affection in any other way.

“Congratulations,” Colton says seeing their hands and smiling - he was on the team for Worlds when this all started after all - and then looking slightly concerned. “I’m not one of the ones that’s dead to you, right?” he asks, “Cause I definitely had nothing to do with whatever this is.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Mitch reassures him leaning into Nate’s shoulder. Colton smiles in relief and gives Mitch a fist-bump before moving on down the hallway.

“It was the falling into his arms thing, right?” Mo asks, “Me and Gards have a bet, and…”

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” John says grabbing Willie and Mo and pulling them down the hall. “Congratulations,” he says over his shoulder.

“Use protection!” Willie reminds them cheerfully while Mo starts protesting the manhandling.

“Thanks!” Mitchy calls after them.

“Your team is so weird,” Nate says, willfully ignoring that if there had been any other Avs on Team Canada this probably would’ve been weirder.

“I know,” Mitch says with a grin. “Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah,” Nate agrees and sighs.

“Right,” Sid says clapping his hands together. “So I’m just going to grab my stuff,” he gestures awkwardly into the room behind Nate and Mitch, “and then I won’t be back until 10 tonight at the earliest.”

Sid slips into the room, grabs a gym bag and starts shoving things into it. Nate and Mitchy follow him in, still holding hands and letting the door close behind them. Sid’s ready before Nate and Mitch even have a chance to sit down. 

“I won’t be back until 10,” he reiterates and gives them a smile and the dorkiest double-thumbs up ever before leaving them alone.

After Sid leaves, Mitch groans and covers his face with his free hand.

“Oh my god,” he says, “Sidney Fucking Crosby just endorsed us having sex in his room.”

“Well it’s my room too,” Nate reminds him, because at this point Sid has been his friend and brother longer than he was his hockey idol, and his off-ice mystique has very much worn off.

“Yeah, okay,” Mitch admits, lowering his hand and rolling his eyes at Nate. “But, like, you really still like me? Since Worlds?”

“Yeah,” Nate says softly and kisses Mitch again.

This talking about things is working way better than Nate thought it would. Gabe can never know that he actually gives good advice.

“But I wasn’t pining either,” he continues, “cause that would be lame.”

Mitchy grabs a pillow from Nate’s bed and hits him in the face with it.

**_X_**

Mitch is hungover. Late morning light is streaming in through the gap in the curtains and Nate is snoring obnoxiously into Mitch’s ear.

Mitch smiles, despite the headache starting to pound behind his eyes, and stretches carefully so as not to dislodge Nate. 

He can feel the weight of his Gold Medal still around his neck. He’s got Nate in his bed in the Olympic fucking Village. And the closing ceremonies are tonight.

Nate stirs next to him, throwing an arm across Mitch’s chest. “Morning,” Nate mutters against his skin, kissing Mitch’s bare shoulder contentedly.

“Morning,” Mitch croaks, his voice raw from screaming his way through last night’s victory party. “Last day of the Olympics,” he says sneaking a hand down Nate’s sweaty back, “anything you still want to do before heading home?”

“Hmmm…” Nate says arching into Mitch’s touch. “I was going to hook up with a luger.”

Mitch laughs, almost too loud in their quiet hungover space. “Why luge?” he asks.

“Have you seen their thighs?” Nate mutters and reaches down to grope one of Mitch’s.

“Mmmm,” Mitch makes an affirmative noise and kisses Nate. He tastes like stale beer and blue Gatorade. It’s absolutely disgusting and Mitch is hoping to remember this for always. “Maybe next Olympics,” he suggests as their medals clink between their chests.

“Nah,” Nate says against Mitch’s lips. “I’m hoping I’ll have a better offer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Two minutes later Mo storms into their room way too loudly for this level of hangover and makes them come to team breakfast, since most of the guys are flying back to North America right after the closing ceremonies. Mitch vows never to share a room with Mo again, which is a blatant lie. Nate gets him some water and painkillers because he's secretly a very good boyfriend.
> 
> I used a roster prediction from right after the 2018 Olympics to predict who would be on Team Canada in 2022 (assuming the NHL players are allowed to go). It's definitely not going to be accurate, but this is fiction. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I also have no idea if NHLers have to share rooms in the Olympic Village. I think they used to? But it my head they do - it's way more fun this way.
> 
> ETA (before the challenge even opens): The fic hasn't really been Jossed by the Tyson to Toronto trade. But I do feel ROBBED of an opportunity for further shenanigans.


End file.
